Beyond Endurance
by SilentWitness
Summary: This story is uploaded for a friend who refuses to disclose a name. This is very poignant so far, and deserves a closer look.
1. Reflection

This first chapter, through written in third person, follows thoughts. Thus, it does go in strange directions at times. I tried to follow these thoughts the way my thoughts usually go. Whether it worked or not, you be the judge.  
  
Warning, this fic deals with child abuse, though - at least at this point - not graphically. Though I wish it otherwise, it does happen. I'm trying to deal with it in a very realistic and mature way, but if it offends you, please do not read any further.  
  
I do not own "Hey Arnold".  
  
  
~Beyond Endurance~  
  
"Reflection"  
  
She sat in silence, looking out at the great expanse of blue before her. She couldn't seem to get her mind to work, everything seemed so... unreal. Yet, she had known for so long that this would eventually happen that she knew it was completely and totally truth. She just wished... she sighed, unable to finish her thought. At the moment she was so totally numb that she didn't even know what she wanted. She didn't even care.  
  
Today had been the last day of "normal" life. She wished she had spent it a little better, participated a little more, given in just a little to the illusion that she belonged with them. It had just been so rough the last couple of days.   
  
Olga had returned home to announce that she had qualified to enter an accelerated learning program, which was only available to the brightest and most community-active students. This would take her through every class she was supposed to have for the next three years of college and get them all done in about a year. Helga's parents had been so proud that they'd treated them all out to dinner - but they had left before she could even get her shoes on and tied. They'd forgotten her completely. What was worse was that they didn't even notice she was missing throughout the entire meal, until they got home, then Bob had yelled at her for not being there to encourage her sister, Olga had defended her through tears, and Mirriam had gone into the kitchen, made herself a smoothie, and locked herself into her room.  
  
That had been nearly a week ago. Olga had stayed until the end of the week, then had gone back to Alaska. Since then, things had only gotten worse.  
  
Helga shivered slightly. Fall was just around the corner. They'd started school on Monday, but Summer seemed to want to hold out for a couple more weeks. Fall was putting up a hard fight, though, and was starting to win. It wouldn't be long now, and the nip in air as the sun set in the sky was proving so.   
  
Her shivering didn't last long. Eventually her body settled into the same numbness as her mind had and the shivering stopped.  
  
At least now that school was in session she'd have a reason for not being home most of the day. She'd have to find something to do after school now, though.   
  
Maybe she could get a job somewhere. Even if no one could officially hire her, maybe they'd let her "help out" after school. Harold had done it with Mr. Green. Even Arnold and Gerald had done it at a flower shop. If she did get a job, she could just buy her own lunch at school, or maybe buy her own stuff to pack for lunch. That way she'd never have to go anywhere near Bob to ask for money. She would just have to find some place where she knew no one from her class would ever go.   
  
She tried to keep her thoughts intent on finding a job, but she couldn't. Her mind just kept going over and over the events of that afternoon.  
  
After Olga had left, things had steadily gotten worse at home.   
  
Mirriam would look at her in the morning and get out her blender. She always turned to her smoothies. Helga knew why. Her mother put alcohol in each and every one. Maybe not much alcohol. Not enough anyone could ever accuse her of being alcoholic, but enough to "take the edge off of things", as she'd explained to Helga after she'd caught Mirriam pouring Vodka into the mix one morning. Helga had had to promise never to tell.   
  
After she made her drink, Mirriam would take it up to her room, where she'd lock herself in and take a handful of anti-depressant pills. Combined, these kept her constantly in a state of blissful incoherence, which Helga could do nothing to break through.  
  
Bob, on the other hand, was all too aware. Aware of Helga's faults, that was. Since Olga had announced more of her perfection, Helga's faults had amplified a million-fold in her father's eyes. She wasn't perfect, not even close, she was a normal human, just like everyone else, and he couldn't take it. In his eyes, he was the perfect salesman, his eldest daughter was perfect in just about everything, and his wife was very docile and obedient. His life would have been perfect if Helga had just been born a boy. He could have had his perfect daughter and his perfect son. His life would have been a breeze.  
  
If it hadn't been for Helga.   
  
Helga was not a breeze. She was real. She was stubborn and intelligent. She knew what she wanted and she wasn't going to let anyone push her around, not even her parents. She didn't care what Bob thought a girl should act like, she'd be whatever she wanted to be.  
  
Bob couldn't stand it. He'd recognized it at a very young age, and he hadn't been about to let her get away with it. He would get her to behave his way whatever it took, and he meant whatever it took.   
  
That had stopped at age five, when Helga had realized that most kids didn't have to pretend that their latest bruise or cut or broken bone was because they'd fallen down the stairs again. Once she realized that, she'd told her kindergarden teacher and the school had started an investigation. Bob had had to talk fast to get out of that one, and he hadn't touched her since. In fact he did his best to ignore her completely.  
  
But lately, the situation had gotten out of hand. He realized that Helga was now at an age where she would understand that if she told, they wouldn't believe her - especially with her reputation - and if they did, she could get sent to a place good deal worse than Big Bob's house. In addition, he figured she was still young enough that he could possibly scare her into keeping quiet with threats of worse punishments. That realization and Olga's last visit had been all it had taken to get the fire raging beneath him again. She would do things his way.  
  
Monday morning he'd decided to "set some rules". He grabbed Helga by the throat, pinned her up against the wall, and "explained" to her the way things were going to be from now on, until she started to turn purple. Then he released her and told her to get ready for her first day of school. She'd worn a turtleneck that day.  
  
That was three days ago. She hadn't told anyone about it until yesterday. She had thought it would pass, but instead, it seemed to be getting worse. She told Phoebe in total confidence the night before over the phone. Well, she began to tell her. She started with some of the little things Bob had started doing to her again. Phoebe already knew about what Bob had done to Helga when she was little, so Helga figured she could trust Phoebe not not say anything. However, before she could really tell Phoebe anything important, Phoebe got another phone call and hung up with Helga.   
  
Helga had thought it was weird, but didn't attach much importance to it. She'd had more pressing matters on her mind, like the sound of Bob pounding on her locked door while Mirriam yelled at him to keep it down from their bedroom.  
  
She should have paid more attention.  
  
Today she had tried to talk to Phoebe, all day in fact, but Phoebe was getting more popular. Helga had been working since they were three to build Phoebe's confidence without ruining who she already was. It had been hard at times, Phoebe was so smart and shy that it wasn't easy to bring her out of her shell. The only way Helga could seem to get Phoebe to tell her what she wanted was to try to be so bossy that Phoebe would retaliate. It seemed to be working, though. Phoebe seemed to be branching out. She was more willing to talk to other people, and she was starting to make her own friends. Helga was actually proud of her. She had thought Phoebe understood all this.  
  
Apparently not. Today at the ball game after school, everything had exploded. Helga had been a little desperate. She was starting to fall into a depression, and she recognized the signs. She was hoping Phoebe could bump her out of it, as she had before. She just really needed to *talk* to someone she knew she could trust. She was in danger of breaking.  
  
But Phoebe hadn't wanted to talk. She wanted to stay with the others, she wanted to play and be a normal kid. Helga wasn't ready for that. She wasn't used to Phoebe having her own social life - without her. They'd been best friends since preschool and she hadn't thought about things changing.  
  
Helga swallowed a sigh as she thought about what happened next.  
  
She'd been half crazy at that point. She was falling apart and she needed help. For once, Phoebe hadn't understood. When Helga ordered her to come as usual, she'd stood her ground and refused. Helga had tried to order her again, and when it still didn't work, she'd pleaded.   
  
After Phoebe refused a third time, Helga's pride kicked in and she began to come back to her senses. Her hurt at the rejection of the one person who actually cared about her overtook what her family was putting her through. She felt herself turning to stone, unfeeling, uncaring. She stood up straight, and looked Phoebe in the eye. Emotionless and cold, she held contact for a moment, then she broke eye contact and walked away as calmly as she could.  
  
She hadn't known what she was doing. She had never thought she'd be ending a friendship that had lasted over six years that afternoon. At that point she couldn't think.  
  
Phoebe hadn't followed Helga, and as soon as she was out of sight, Helga had broken into a stumbling run. Somehow she ended up in the park two hours later. She sat against a tree and looked up at the sky. It was too bright, too... perfectly blue. She hated it, loathed it. She wanted rain. She wanted it to soak her through, to make her sick, anything to show that *something* could understand how she felt.   
  
Her head was spinning painfully. She couldn't get over Phoebe's rejection. It was too much for her to deal with. Too much on top of everything else. Phoebe shouldn't have done it, she should have just come, she should have known Helga needed her! She was getting angrier and angrier.  
  
At that moment Phoebe had shown up, along with most of the rest of the gang. Helga couldn't remember what happened next, but it didn't matter, she remembered what was important. Harold had decided to tease her, and Helga couldn't take it.   
  
Seething with fury she'd turned cold, hatred-filled eyes on the entire group. "Don't ever talk to me again!" She'd hissed.   
  
"Helga..." Phoebe had started. She hadn't finished. Helga had focused on her with the same look she had given the group. The only difference was her eyes now held a little hurt. Phoebe's words had died in her throat.  
  
"Don't ever talk to me again," Helga had repeated, "Especially you!"  
  
Then she left without another word. No one followed, either they were too scared or they just didn't care, it didn't matter which. They didn't come and that was all that had mattered.  
  
Calm now, Helga sat and watched the water of the bay surge in and out. She'd done a lot of walking, a lot of running and had worked out a lot of her frustrations. Now she could think again. Now that she was empty and numb once again, she could think.  
  
Regret. She regretted every word. But now, now she couldn't take them back, they were here to stay. Phoebe would never forgive her, and she could never forgive herself. The other kids, well now they finally had a reason never to have to deal with her again. She was completely alone.  
  
Alone.  
  
That word was so... It sounded so... It made her feel so...  
  
...  
  
She couldn't put it into words. She was barely thinking in words anymore. Somehow it all seemed a little extraneous. She knew in time her words would come back to her, but for now, all she could do was look at the sky and wish it wasn't so beautiful. Now she remembered another reason why she wished it would rain.  
  
Maybe the rain would hide the tears streaming silently down her face.  
  
The sun finished setting and darkness took over.   
  
Helga went home. Big Bob met her at the door.   
  
____________________  
  
I'm not sure whether the next chapter will be from another perspective, but there will be more conversation in the next one. 


	2. Ramifications

Here is chapter two.   
  
Same warning as before - This fic deals with child abuse. If you read the first chapter, you would know how. If you didn't, you shouldn't be here. This fic deals with feelings, thoughts, actions and reactions, and at this time does not include unnecessary violent details. I reserve the right to include what I deem necessary later on. If this is a sensitive subject matter for you, please do not read any further.  
  
I do not own Hey Arnold or any characters within.  
  
  
"Ramifications"  
  
  
Helga stood in the hallway silently. She hesitated, not really wanting to enter the classroom. She grasped the cool cylinder of the doorknob in her hand and held her breath. Inside she could hear the voices of her classmates. They sounded excited. They were talking about her.   
  
She sighed softly, then twisted the features of her face to look impassive. She'd practiced for hours in front of a mirror when she was younger, schooling herself to look any number of ways. She'd practiced so long, it had become habit, then natural. Now, she could just think about what she wanted and it just happened. It was all so perfectly controlled, so cold. She didn't know if she could go without the control anymore. She had forgotten how.  
  
Helga's fingers tightened around the doorknob as she twisted it open.   
  
"...she really said that?" She heard Arnold say as the door cracked open. "That doesn't sound like her." Had he been there? She couldn't remember. It didn't really matter. It was hot gossip now. Tomorrow, nobody would care.  
  
As the door opened fully, all conversation silenced. She could feel the eyes of everyone staring into her as she entered the room. She limped slightly on her first step and internally frowned. She refused to be intimidated, and absolutely refused to let them see her hurt. She staunchly assumed an air of total disdain and moved fluidly towards the back of the room, viciously ignoring the burning in her leg.  
  
Some kid was just about to sit in the seat she wanted, back row in the corner by the window. She glared at him and he moved quickly, almost tripping over himself in an effort to get away. In her mind she was laughing bitterly. All it took was one look at her to scare people away. That's all she was - a bully, a bratty kid who would beat down anyone who didn't give in to her. Even other bullies hated her. No wonder no one wanted her. She was worthless.  
  
She said nothing as she slipped into her seat. She settled herself quietly and immediately focused on a point outside the window, trying to ignore everything around her. Unfortunately, their purposely hushed voices kept breaking through. Helga closed her eyes, and blocked out everything, reciting an old poem in her head until her head was clear.  
  
She continued to stare out the window, ignoring everything she could for the entire morning session of class. It was only when the teacher directly addressed her that her concentration broke and she finally glanced away from the window. The teacher was standing right next to her, looking at her with half concern, half annoyance. The rest of the class was staring at her also. Surprisingly she could not hear one snicker. They were all staring in anticipation, waiting for her to speak.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Helga did no respond. She stared into the teacher's eyes and said nothing. What he saw in her eyes scared him. He'd never seen anything of that sort in one of his student's eyes before. He gulped and then asked again.  
  
"Are you listening?"  
  
She sat perfectly still and did not respond. He looked away from her eyes, he couldn't take it anymore. He wrote her out a pass and asked her to leave class.  
  
She did so, calmly gathering her books and walking out with neither contempt nor apology in her steps. She just walked forward one step at a time.  
  
She headed toward the principal's office. She didn't bother looking at the slip, she just went. She sat down on the couch beside his door and waited. It was nearly twenty minutes before he wandered out and noticed her sitting there.  
  
"Well what have we got here?"   
  
He frowned as he got no response. He looked at the comments on the pass and frowned deeper.  
  
"Listen, I won't tolerate this kind of behavior, now go to the shrink.. uh.. counselor as you were told.  
  
She registered a bit of surprise, then silently took the pass back and walked out, oblivious to his shocked stare.  
  
Her limp returned a little as she walked through the empty halls. With no one to see it, she could try to ease the pain of her leg a little, even if the pain inside her chest wasn't easing any. Had anyone been looking, they would have seen her limp all the way up to the office door, then the limp suddenly disappear as if it had never been.  
  
Helga opened the door without a care as to who might be in there. Fortunately, Dr. Bliss was alone, sifting through some paperwork.  
  
"Why hello, Helga," She said, "How are you doing today?"  
  
Helga didn't answer, she just placed the pass on the desk Dr. Bliss was sitting at and quietly moved to the couch, laying down. Dr. Bliss picked up the pass and read it carefully. She realized that there was something very wrong here, and that she'd have to proceed carefully.  
  
"It seems you've had a rough day today, Helga," She waited carefully for a response but got none. "I haven't seen you for awhile, how is Arnold?" A slight, noncommittal shrug, but besides that, nothing. Helga had never been this cold before. Quite the opposite, she had always been very passionate about what happened in her life, and especially about her secret. Dr. Bliss began to get worried.  
  
"Well, Helga, how are things at home? Has your family started to pay more attention to you?" Dr. Bliss was alarmed to see Helga's face drain of all color. She started shaking a little on the couch, but she still didn't answer.  
  
Dr. Bliss wanted to pursue that subject, but felt it was the wrong time. Instead, she attempted to change the subject. "Tell me, then, how Phoebe is doing today. Have you two decided..." Dr. Bliss broke off abruptly, seeing hot tears begin to roll down Helga's cheeks.  
  
As soon as Dr. Bliss had mentioned Phoebe's name, Helga's iron control had broken. The dam that had been holding in all the pain and horror and fear Helga had been feeling that day shattered and Helga reeled as her defenses began to crumble. She couldn't stop the slow moan that echoed in her head, nor could she control the tears that were now streaming down her face. She could feel the burning sobs coming and she tried desperately to suppress them. This caused her to have a fit of muted hiccups, which shook her body.   
  
Dr. Bliss could only watch as Helga's body started to spasm with hiccupping sobs. She felt an acute pain in her chest. As a psychiatrist, she was supposed to maintain an amount of emotional detachment from her patients. However, as a child psychologist, she found she was required to form a bond of sorts with each child, or else they could not trust her, and she would not be able to get through to them. This required a very delicate balance between objectivity and empathy. However, it also held the constant risk of growing too attached to or involved in one child's life, especially when the child came from an obviously dysfunctional and abusive home life like Helga did.  
  
As far as Dr. Bliss knew, the abuse Helga suffered at home was mainly a form of mental abuse, specifically neglect. Except for a few small things, like school lunches, Helga's parents didn't seem to neglect her physically. She didn't seem to be lacking a place to stay, or food to eat(mostly), or clean clothes. She was growing up a normal healthy child - on the outside. Mentally, and emotionally, though, she had been severely damaged. The fact that her parents barely acknowledged having a second daughter had all but destroyed Helga's self-esteem.   
  
That was one of the reasons she fought so hard to preserve a secret obsession. It was also why she felt she had to physically combat anything that had the potential to hurt her emotionally. It only stood to reason that she felt she had to protect herself from further pain. After all, she'd suffered so much of it already. The unfortunate result of this was that she'd also grown dangerously disattached from other people. She had trouble fitting into a group of other kids because she was constantly pushing them away, even while unconsciously yearning to let them in. In fact, Dr. Bliss had concluded that it was only Helga's long standing obsession for Arnold that kept her from becoming incapable of attaching to anyone. Having 'bonded' with him at a critical time in her life, and having maintained the love she'd felt until now, albeit secretly, Helga had retained some amount of empathy and compassion. That was strengthened by her friendship with Phoebe.   
  
But it had all begun with the forced detachment from her own parents.  
  
Dr. Bliss had to admire Helga's ability to remain so strong even with all she had been through. She was one tough little girl.   
  
But watching Helga now, crying on her couch, Dr. Bliss couldn't help but consider that the abuse she was suffering at home may be more than just mental or emotional. She had noted some faded bruises on Helga's face and neck. They had almost faded completely. Sure, children damaged themselves all the time, but these almost looked like someone had tried to strangle her. That coupled with the fear that had been plainly evident on Helga's face when Dr. Bliss had mentioned her family, and her current breakdown, caused Dr. Bliss to begin to suspect that Helga was suffering some physical abuse at home also.  
  
It made sense, the more Dr. Bliss thought about it. She had met both Bob and Mirriam Pataki on a couple of occasions. Bob had the personality for abuse. He was above all controlling. She had noticed this right away. He liked to control things, his beeper empire, his family. It gave him a taste of power. He did not enjoy anyone contradicting him and he did not enjoy not getting his own way. He also had little empathy for anyone but himself, and did not mind using any means - no matter how dishonest - to get where he wanted to go. Another thing she had noticed was that Bob liked to put on appearances. With him, it was all about image. When something did not fit into his image, he eliminated it.  
  
Dr. Bliss reeled back a moment, gaping at the enormity of this new revelation. This new, physical, aspect of the abuse must have begun recently, or Helga would not be reacting so strongly now. Either that or... well that was not something Dr. Bliss wanted to consider was happening to Helga, though she would keep her mind open to that option. For now she would concentrate on finding a way of easing the physical abuse.   
  
Without another moment's thought, she reached down and swept Helga into a comforting hug.   
  
Helga started as she felt arms encircle her and pull her into a tight hug. Opening her eyes, she saw the look of concern and compassion on Dr. Bliss's face. Helga didn't try to fight it this time. She just gave in and hugged back, as hard as she could. Somehow, she felt that Dr. Bliss understood. She held the embrace tight, until her sobs began to ease into soft whimpers. Then Dr. Bliss gently pushed Helga back until she was again lying on the couch. Gripping Helga's hand tightly, she told her that she should try to get a little sleep and that she would wake Helga up for class a little later. Helga didn't fight it, she just closed her eyes and in moments was asleep.  
  
Doctor Bliss remained by Helga's side for a minute or two longer, to be sure Helga was resting, then she got up and walked back to her desk. She was angry now, angry at herself for not realizing this sooner, angry at Helga's parents for putting a child - their child at that - through something like this, and angry that she lived in a society where there were so many rules and regulations put in place to protect "confidentiality" that she could not legally tell anyone what was happening to her young patient. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she pulled out her legal books and papers. She would find a way around this. She had to - before someone got seriously hurt.  
  
Dr. Bliss didn't wake Helga until the lunch bell rang. She figured Helga could use some time outside, perhaps with her friends. Dr. Bliss produced two sandwiches and offered one to Helga, but she refused with a short shake of the head. She wasn't hungry. Dr. Bliss didn't mind. She wrote out a pass and sent Helga outside with a reminder that she could come back any time she wanted to for any reason.  
  
Helga nodded and walked outside slowly. She wasn't really registering her surroundings. She squinted as she stepped out into the sunlight. No one really noticed her arrival. That was okay. She didn't think she'd like having the spotlight right now.  
  
Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the playground. She could see everyone gathered at the monkey bars, loudly debating something, egged on by Harold and Rhonda. She briefly wondered what the debate would be like if she were leading it, but quickly squashed those thoughts. Those days were over, now, and thinking about it would only make the pain worse.   
  
She diverted her eyes and immediately caught sight of a group of three people near the jungle jim. All three had their backs to Helga. The girl sat on the ground while the two boys stood over her, focusing on her for some reason. Helga gulped, almost choking against the large lump that had risen in her throat at the sight of her best friend. That Arnold and his friend were with her didn't help anything. They were all a part of something she could no longer be, now. Pained, she turned away, unconsciously letting her limp return as she headed toward an empty corner of the playground.  
  
He wasn't sure what made him look up just then. A thought, a feeling like he was being watched. She was standing there, silent, at the entrance of the school. He watched as she turned away, a somnolent gloomy air surrounding her. He couldn't help but be disappointed in her, after the way she had treated her best friend. If she was a real friend, he and Gerald would not be here comforting Phoebe as she cried *again* over what Helga had said. That's not what friends do.   
  
Yet, looking at her, he was finding it hard to stay mad. He hadn't been with the others that day, Grandpa had needed some help with some chores around the boarding house and Arnold had stayed behind to help. All he had heard were second hand reports of how mean Helga had been - how she had turned on them all. Looking at her now, he couldn't see her that way. She didn't look like she had won, and she wasn't acting as if she was better than the rest of them. Instead, she seemed... defeated. She seemed to have shrunk into herself. She looked smaller than he had ever seen her look before. He wished he knew what was going on here.   
  
Arnold continued to ponder as he watched Helga walk toward the opposite end of the playground. Was she limping? He thought back to when she had come into class that day. Had she been limping then? He didn't think so. Had something happened to her after she had left the class? That seemed unlikely. All the other bullies were avoiding Helga right now. Rumors of what happened had escalated so that Helga's sanity was now in doubt as much as Curly's. So why was she limping now?  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Arnold noticed Brainy silently following Helga. Arnold shook his head. Did that kid have a death wish? He watched silently as the two neared their destination, wondering just what would happen.  
  
Helga heard the wheezing behind her as she sat down, but ignored it. She wasn't going to hit him today. She didn't think she could ever hit him again. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd take the hint.  
  
He didn't.   
  
He stood there, a moment, awkwardly staring downwards, then he sat beside her, ignoring the deafening silence between them. The silence was okay, he'd lived in silence much of his life. Sometimes the silence could convey more than sound.  
  
Helga tried to ignore him, but was finding it hard, especially when he was sitting beside her, just looking at her. Finally she gave up and looked back at him. His eyes were blank. They held neither scorn nor pity. They were neither threatening nor were they friendly. He was just there, just a kid, just a stranger.  
  
Helga felt something click as she and Brainy shared this moment. Here was Brainy, the annoyance, the stalker, the kid who was *always* behind her at just the wrong moment, who she actually shuddered at when she thought about him. This was the *one* guy that she would not want to get stuck with ever for anything.  
  
But he was here.   
  
And he understood. Somehow she could just sense that he understood her completely. And that was something amazing.  
  
The moment ended and Helga looked away. The atmosphere wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It was just.. neutral. Blank, numb, the same way she was feeling. She couldn't decide whether she wanted Brainy to stay or whether she wanted him to leave her alone.  
  
She heard the sound of a paper bag crumpling beside her, and suddenly realized that something was being held up beside her. She looked up to see Brainy offering half of his sandwich to her. She looked up a moment, into his face, and saw a slight entreaty.  
  
She hesitated, then accepted the sandwich and took a bite.  
  
The silence was still deafening, but it was okay. It wasn't a scary silence, ominous or uncomfortable. It was... companionable.  
  
Sometimes silence can convey more than sound.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A.N. - No this is not a Brainy/Helga shipper. If you didn't get it, he offered her friendship, she accepted it. That's all. 


	3. Realization

Hey out there. Sorry for taking so long with this. Life gets in the way sometimes.  
  
Before I start, I've received a few complaints about the characters, well Bob, being out of character, and the story being too serious. Sorry. I'm not an expert on this cartoon. I've seen it a few times, read a few episode scripts and read what some of the fans have written. You are all right, the show is more or less lighthearted and Bob seems harmless enough. Yet, from what I've seen of his personality, and from the perspective of someone who has studied psychology, he does have the personality for abuse. It was not a huge stretch of the imagination for him to become physically abusive, as he is already emotionally and mentally abusive. Someone pointed out to me that he did bond with Helga in an episode. I recently saw that one. It was nice. Take it from someone who knows, though. Abusive personalities often deeply love or respect the people that they hurt. Most of the time, it's an issue of control.  
  
And for those who didn't like the seriousness and/or the subject matter. I did put a warning up. I will state it again. This story contains child abuse.   
  
I have been reading your comments. Thank you.  
  
Hey Arnold and the characters within do not belong to me.  
  
  
  
"Realization"  
  
  
  
A week passed. Summer, slowly giving way to Fall, was barely clinging to the life it once had led. Things had slipped into a somewhat dreary routine of school and home life. It was as if a small black cloud were hanging just overhead at all times. A general feeling of discontent seemed to be taking everyone over, as if something was just out of balance.  
  
And he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that was.   
  
Lately the boarders had been more bitter and complaining than ever. They were constantly fighting and bickering and complaining over the tiniest thing, and he was finding it harder and harder to ignore them. Worse, though, was the fact that his grandparents seemed to want to thrust him in the middle of everything, including a recent argument they'd had that seemed to have left them increasingly hostile towards each other. He wasn't sure how, but somewhere in the midst of ranting about the Alamo and going off on secret reconnaissance missions in search of Russian spies, his grandmother had actually offended his grandfather, who wasn't about to let it drop. For the last two days "pookie" had seemed more than a little demeaning and Arnold suspected his grandmother was purposely making all the foods that made his grandfather sick.  
  
Or maybe it was his perception of things.  
  
He had to admit, with things the way they were at school, he couldn't be sure his judgment wasn't altered, that he wasn't looking for things to be wrong. The Helga Situation wasn't getting any better. She still wasn't talking to, or even now acknowledging, anyone other than Brainy, and he wasn't sure she was even talking to him. She just tolerated him more, allowed him around her as she chased everyone else away with a look that promised certain torturous death.  
  
And Phoebe was still more than a little upset. She had taken to spending all her time with him and Gerald. Not that they minded helping her, it was just weird to be around her all the time, especially without someone else always lurking behind her. It had also taken awhile to convince her that they didn't want her to do anything for them. She had continually tried to anticipate both of them and get their lunches for them or pick up their books or other such acts of servitude. They were still trying to break her of that, but she just kept doing it, almost as if she would feel useless if she didn't.   
  
It was definitely a change, and one he was not sure he liked. This was one situation he didn't know how to fix. He didn't know what the right thing to do was. He didn't even know the problem.  
  
It was recess. Helga and Brainy were sitting alone in the corner Helga had claimed for herself. No one went near her, they didn't even look over. They had already gotten used to the new order of things - an order without Helga Pataki. Not much else had changed, Arnold had noted, except for Phoebe, everyone stayed with the same friends, everyone held their same level of popularity, the leaders were still the leaders, the geeks were still the geeks and the bullies still the bullies. It had surprised Arnold how little Helga had actually meant to her classmates. In fact, beyond the first few days of curiosity, no one seemed to even notice she was gone with the exception of Stinky who had commented that it was "a mite more peaceful without her bullien' anymore".   
  
He wondered what would happen if he were in her situation. Would his lack of presence affect them?  
  
It was a sobering thought, and he bit his lip in agitation as he looked over at Helga and Brainy. Phoebe and Gerald, beside him, were doing the same. It had become their tradition since the incident. Kind of a silent vigil over a lost friend, only without the grave. They rarely talked about it, just watched, trying to glean a reason from her actions where they couldn't find one in words. Sometimes they talked, but in hushed voices. This was one of those days.  
  
"Hey Arnold," Gerald said tentatively, "why do you suppose she lets Brainy near her and no one else?"  
  
"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold said, puzzled also. He'd thought about that before, but couldn't come up with a reason. He'd thought she hated Brainy, she was always so mean to him.  
  
"It's because he wasn't there," Phoebe murmured absently.  
  
"What?" Both boys were staring at her.  
  
"He wasn't there that day, remember?" Phoebe said, now looking back up at them, "I guess she doesn't blame him for whatever we did. He wasn't there to do anything to her, and he wasn't there to see her blow up." Phoebe's voice turned to a whisper, "All the rest of us were."  
  
"I wasn't," Arnold said without thinking. Actually, he *was* thinking, but he was thinking about the explanation Phoebe had just given him. It made sense, but then, when did Phoebe not make sense?  
  
He realized both of them were staring at *him* now.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're right, Arnold, you weren't there," Phoebe exclaimed excitedly, "maybe *you* could talk to her! I bet she'd let *you*!"  
  
"Phoebe I don't think..." The words died in Arnold's throat. Phoebe was looking up at him with such a hopeful expression. He just couldn't say no, not if there was a chance he could help.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"Alright," he said, "I'll try at the end of recess." Phoebe actually smiled, the first time in a week. Arnold shook his head as she turned away, "If she doesn't pound me first!" He muttered under his breath. He felt a clap on his back, and saw Gerald there, smiling with pity. He knew Gerald had heard and understood.  
  
They all sat in silence until the end of recess bell sounded. Arnold waited until most of the kids had gone inside, knowing that Helga tended to avoid the onrushing crowd now, so she would wait till last also. Dust cleared and silence began to set in as the kids abandoned the playground. It seemed to Arnold that he and Helga were suddenly completely alone, no one around for miles. Even Brainy was missing. Arnold wasn't sure how that had happened, but he was privately grateful. It would be infinitely harder to try to talk to Helga with an audience.  
  
It felt like an old western standoff - right before the onslaught of gunfire.  
  
Helga didn't look at him; she may not have even realized he was there. She started for the door leading inside. It was now or never.  
  
"Helga," Arnold broke the silence tentatively. To his surprised she stopped, pausing for a moment, then she shook her head and kept going. "Helga, wait, ok?"  
  
She stopped again, and this time turned around, her fiercest glare directed at him. He gulped, but stepped nearer to her. "Helga, listen... I want to talk to you, please." She didn't say a word, but the intensity of the glare lessened and she tilted her head slightly at him.  
  
He took that as a good sign and moved forward, until he was standing in front of her. He paused, searching for how to begin. "I, I wanted to know... Are you okay?"  
  
Her world tilted in that moment. She'd seen him watching and felt him lurking around her as she tried to enter the school. She hadn't been sure just what was about. She didn't think it would be pleasant. Someone like him, someone good and happy, he couldn't possibly understand what she was going through. She should just ignore him like everyone else.  
  
But she couldn't. She'd tried, but when he said her name, asked her to wait, she couldn't seem to make her legs go forward. Instead, they *turned around*. Traitors. So she waited trying to scare him of with her look of doom. He'd stayed, though. That had really surprised her. She began to wonder... then he'd asked to talk with her. She felt her face sag with disappointment. She knew he'd been hanging out with Phoebe. She was still watching over Phoebe, just from a distance, without her knowing. Helga figured that Arnold was here to lecture her on how bad she'd made Phoebe feel. Like she didn't already know. It haunted her every day. Her pride, that hideous bug that lived within her, prevented her from doing anything about it. It didn't matter anyway, Phoebe deserved someone who wasn't completely worthless, like she was.  
  
"...Are you okay?" Her world tilted. That was not what she had expected, and her mind suddenly couldn't function.  
  
"What?" She said without thinking. Immediately she regretted it. She had broken her silence.  
  
But this encouraged Arnold. His stance became a little bolder and he felt it easier to say his next words. "It's just that you're acting so... unlike you. I just wondered what happened."  
  
Helga took a moment to look at him. He *looked* earnest enough. She thought back to that day. Had he been there? Frowning, she searched the picture she kept in the back of her mind. Phoebe of course, had been there, and Gerald, Stinky, Curly, Harold... she could see almost everyone in class, but not Arnold. Was it possible that he hadn't been there?  
  
"I'm fine," she told him, trying to sound harsh, the way she remembered. It came out a lot softer than she had intended, lighter too. Her words didn't quite carry the 'drop it and leave me alone' she had intended. Now she wasn't sure what to do.  
  
Arnold had come to speak to Helga about Phoebe. Now he realized that this wasn't the time. She was actually being civil and he had the feeling that if he mentioned Phoebe, Helga would quickly revert to insults, or worse to her silence. For now, maybe he could find out what her problem was, and then, maybe he could help everyone.  
  
"So... would you like to talk about it?"  
  
"No!" That answer had come too quickly, with too much force behind it. It only piqued Arnold's curiosity.  
  
"Well maybe I could help you. You know, give you some advice or something."  
  
"No." She said again, vehemenantly.   
  
"Helga, something's obviously wrong. Have you told anyone?" Undaunted, Arnold stepped forward, taking a closer look at her. Now there was fear and trapped anger in her eyes. Why?  
  
"No! There's nothing wrong, leave me alone footballhead!" She was panicking now, he could tell, trying to make him mad.   
  
She was backing away, she was going to leave. He couldn't let her do that. Not when he felt like he was getting close. As she turned and started to dash away, Arnold reached out and grabbed her hand to halt her. She yelped in pain and stopped dead. She didn't move a muscle, just stood very still breathing hard against the pain. Slowly, she turned and looked at Arnold with pained eyes, silently pleading with him to release her.  
  
He didn't. Loosening his grip, her carefully turned her arm over and examined it. Even that little bit of motion had hurt her. He heard her gasp, then hold her breath. Her arm was swollen, and turning an angry red.   
  
Arnold gaped up at her, still not letting go of her wrist, though now he was holding it as lightly as he could. "What happened to your arm, Helga?"  
  
I'm FINE, footballhead!" She hissed through clenched teeth. "Let go of me!"  
  
Obviously she was not fine, and he was *not* going to let go until he got an explanation. "Helga..."  
  
She didn't answer this time, just stood there looking away, trying to hide the pain her arm was in.   
  
Arnold sighed. "Come on, we're going to the nurse's office."   
  
Helga eyes widened impossibly. "No!... I mean no, I don't need to, it's just a little bruised or something..."  
  
Arnold wasn't about to take no for an answer, not this time. He didn't respond. With a firm but gentle grip on her arm he simply began to walk away. She had no choice but to follow him. As they walked through the doors, he looked back at her for a moment. She had this incredible look of hurt on her face, as if he had just betrayed her trust. He winced internally and swallowed, but didn't stop. Maybe he was betraying her, using her pain to force her to do something she didn't want to do, but she really needed help, and she wasn't going to get it on her own.  
  
Not two steps into the hallway, they ran into the school psychiatrist. Arnold was expecting her to ask them why they weren't in class, but she just smiled kindly and handed Arnold a hall pass. Then she walked away without ever saying a word or even glancing in Helga's direction.  
  
Weird.  
  
Arnold shook his head, and continued to lead a now unresisting Helga to the nurse's office.   
  
"Good heavens, what happened to you?" The nurse exclaimed upon seeing the arm.  
  
Helga bit her lip nervously, trying to find an excuse. "Er...Baseball bat," she said shortly, "It was an accident." Technically that as the truth, Bob had been aiming for her head.  
  
She saw Arnold frown. What, he wasn't buying her story? Too bad. It was true - in a manner of speaking. She wasn't going to offer anything else. Let him draw his own conclusions. Like it mattered.  
  
The nurse had obviously drawn conclusions of her own. "Well, the way you kids play sports today, I swear, you'll like to kill yourself before long. Well, the arm is sprained. I'm going to wrap a bandage around it for now; you should have your parents take you to a doctor when you get home. Don't use that arm much for the next week or so, and no more baseball until about a week after that, you understand?"  
  
Helga nodded, grimacing slightly inside. That shouldn't be a problem at all, not anymore.  
  
"Well, now, you two get on back to class and be careful with yourselves from now on." Then she walked away, muttering to herself as she went to tend another kid.  
  
When they were safely in the hall, Arnold turned on Helga. "You didn't hurt yourself playing baseball."  
  
She sniffed, turning away. "Who said I did?" Then she started to walk away.  
  
"*You* said you did, Helga," He said, jogging a few steps to catch up with her, "And it was a lie. You didn't hurt yourself playing baseball, or any other sport!"  
  
Helga said nothing, just kept going.  
  
"Helga, I want the truth!"  
  
"How do YOU know, that's not what happened, footballhead? Just because I wasn't with *you* when *you* played? For your information, I didn't lie. You don't know. You don't know me, and you don't know anything *about* me. So butt out, bucko, until you know what's really going down. Or else."  
  
With that, she turned and walked away without another word. All Arnold could do was follow her the rest of the way to class, and think about what she had said.  
  
Phoebe and Gerald cornered him right after school, but Arnold refused to talk until they were safely in his room. Immediately he was bombarded with questions he couldn't answer. So he just sat there until they calmed down. Eventually they did, and Gerald was the first to get a question in.  
  
"So, did you actually get to talk to Helga, or what?"  
  
"Yes I did," Arnold replied calmly.  
  
"Did she talk to you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How is she?" Phoebe asked quietly, looking at the floor.  
  
Arnold hesitated. "It's hard to tell. She's very... confusing. She *acted* like she was okay, but I don't think she was at all." His voice faded to silence, remembering.  
  
"What's wrong with her?" Phoebe probed gently.  
  
Again Arnold hesitated. "I don't know. It was just a feeling I got. She was so defensive. When I asked her if something was wrong she was yelling no practically before I got the words out of my mouth. Plus, her arm was sprained."  
  
"WHAT?" Two sets of eyes widened a little.  
  
Arnold frowned, "You must have seen, when we came back to class. She had a bandage on her arm."  
  
They both shook their heads. "She *was* holding one of her arms really close," Phoebe ventured, "She could have been hiding the bandage."  
  
Arnold shrugged. He'd known it was there, maybe he had seen it because he knew what to look for. "The thing is, when we were on the playground, I grabbed her hand, that's how I knew she was hurt. It was all swollen and red. But she didn't have anything on it at all. I had to force her to go to the nurse! She really didn't want to go."  
  
He frowned again, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. There was just something that was missing. "Then when the nurse asked her what happened, she told her she hurt it playing baseball. I'm sure she didn't get hurt playing baseball, so why didn't she just tell the truth?"  
  
"You didn't ask her?" Gerald wondered. After all, this was Arnold they were talking about here. His friend had a reputation for badgering out the truth. He wouldn't just let something like that go, would he?  
  
Arnold looked offended. "No I *did*, but she kept saying she was telling the truth. She said just because she wasn't with us didn't mean she was lying. So... does she have some other friends somewhere, ones that we don't know about?"   
  
"Helga?" Gerald said incredulously. "I don't know. That sounds a little out there."  
  
"But it is possible," Arnold said. "We don't know what she's been doing after school. She was right. It *could* have happened."  
  
"No." Phoebe said, speaking up finally. "What did Helga say, exactly, when talking with the school nurse?"  
  
"She just said she was playing baseball. And that it was an accident."  
  
"No," Phoebe said again, "Helga is an excellent wordsmith. She doesn't like to lie, no matter what she might say. She usually finds a way to word things so that they are enough of the truth to scoot by. What did she say *exactly*?"  
  
"Umm... she said 'a baseball bat. It was an accident." Arnold said, coming as close as he could remember.   
  
Phoebe was staring into space, thinking hard. "And when you confronted her, what did she say to you then?"  
  
"She said how did I know? And that it was the truth... no, she said it wasn't a lie. Then she said I didn't know her or anything about her and to butt out until I really knew what was going on." Who ever remembered exact words, anyway?  
  
Phoebe had closed her eyes, and looked as if she was trying to figure something out, yet trying to deny something at the same time.  
  
"Wasn't she limping a few days ago too?" Gerald spoke up, "I remember seeing her limp once or twice. It looked like she was trying to hide it."  
  
"Yeah," Arnold agreed, "In fact, that started right after that day, didn't it? I wonder what happened to her."  
  
Phoebe suddenly let out a whoosh of air, and her eyes shot open. "Oh!" she gasped. "Oh no. No!"  
  
"Phoebe what's wrong?" Gerald cried.  
  
"Oh my gosh, that was it. On the phone. She tried to tell me!" Phoebe exclaimed in horror. "The night before. She tried to tell me and I didn't listen. Oh my gosh, I'm such a bad friend!" She had suddenly and unequivocally discovered exactly what this whole thing was about, and she was terrified by the prospect.  
  
"What, what did she try to tell you?" both boys watched helplessly as Phoebe's eyes filled with tears.  
  
"This is all my fault!" She cried. "I should have known."  
  
"Phoebe!" Arnold shouted. She quieted and looked at him. "What is going on?"  
  
"I think I know, why Helga said what she said, why she's got those injuries. She tried to tell me, the night before on the phone, but I got another call, and the next day..." Phoebe shook her head against the enormity of what she thought was happening. "It's just, if I'm right, it is extremely bad."  
  
"So, what do you think it is?" Gerald said.  
  
"If I told you, Helga would never forgive me." Phoebe said with pleading eyes.  
  
"If you don't tell us, it may get worse. Maybe we can help." Arnold said patiently.  
  
Phoebe bit her lip, racked with indecision.  
  
"okay... but you have to promise not to tell." she said slowly.  
  
"We promise." They said in unison.  
  
Phoebe took a breath. "When Helga was little, her dad used to hit her. You probably don't remember, but in kindergarden she would always have new bruises or a broken bone. She told a teacher, and Bob stopped hurting her, but..." Phoebe bit her lip a little, unable to watch their reactions, she hurried on. "If he's started doing it again, well, everything would fit. What she started to tell me on the phone. Why she suddenly pulled away from everybody. Why she's been limping and has a sprained arm. In fact, that could be what made her excuse truth, if Bob hit her with a bat."  
  
Everyone winced at that, and grew silent. It was a lot to process.  
  
Finally Arnold cleared his throat and spoke up rather hoarsely. "Phoebe, we have to tell someone."  
  
"No! You promised." Phoebe said.  
  
"Phoebe, this is not something we can keep to ourselves. He could seriously hurt her if we don't do something. Do you really want something like that to happen to her?"  
  
Phoebe looked away. "No. But we can't say anything until we talk to her, okay?"  
  
"Alright, let's talk to her tomorrow, then." Arnold wasn't letting up. He was horrified to hear something like this, and his moral justice had just kicked into overdrive. Nobody deserved something like that, not even Helga.  
  
Phoebe gave a defeated sigh. "We have to do this right, or she'll hate us all. She already going to hate me for betraying her trust. We have to plan how we're going to approach this."  
  
They all nodded.  
  
"Don't worry Phoebe," Gerald said comfortingly, "Things will turn out okay. We've got Arnold on the case now."  
  
Arnold threw a pillow at him and they all sat down, talking and planning long into the night.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I just wanted to note that I am not trying to make problems for every character in this fic. The "fight" between Arnold's grandparents was nothing more than their normal bickering. Sometimes our perceptions of an event or thing differ with how we feel or other circumstances. This was just one way of showing how this was adversely affecting Arnold. 


	4. Retribution

My apologies for the length of time in between chapters. This has been a very hard chapter to write, as will be the next, the finale. There are so many paths for this story to take. So many ways for it to end. I imagine some of you have already thought of endings you would like to see. I believe I have chosen an ending that will be both appropriate to the subject matter and to the people reading it. In actuality I have written many endings. Which one I use, here, may not be the one I'd use elsewhere, or with a different group of readers. I can only say that it will not be as most expect.  
  
The buildup, here, remains the same, no matter what ending I choose. So I am posting it now, a cutoff. I will post the ending soon, after thought has been given as to which to pick.   
  
What do you imagine?  
  
Hey Arnold and characters within do not belong to me.   
  
One last time, a warning: If, somehow, you managed to make it to this chapter without realizing that this story is based around child abuse, I weep for you. Thus, I will neither take seriously any complaints over the subject matter, nor will I think much of your intelligence, although flames are always welcome. They amuse me.  
  
  
  
  
"Retribution"  
  
Fear. Anger. Loathing.  
  
It seemed to be all she could feel anymore. Gone was everything good about her. All she had left was an empty shell and some hopeless, errant thoughts. She couldn't even dream anymore. Her writing had taken a very dangerous turn, and had slipped into a darkness even she could scarcely fathom. When she wrote at all, that is. It wasn't very often that she cared to write anymore. All she cared for now was oblivion, peace. A serenity that was so far out of reach she couldn't even remember its relevance. All she had left was the pain.  
  
She had scared herself with her own thoughts. Nine-year-olds shouldn't be suicidal. After all, they had their whole lives in front of them. So much hope for the adults to place in them. So much trust.  
  
So much room for disappointment.  
  
When all was said and done, it didn't matter how old she was. Nine or ninety, Helga still had feelings. And she *felt* worthless. She *felt* useless and dirty. She *felt* depressed, and every so often she *felt* like she wanted to die.  
  
Or at least never to have been born.  
  
She wished for that more than anything anymore. In her mind she could see... Big Bob beaming with pride over the son he'd never had; Miriam actually coherent for once, watching her happy little family with her perfect daughter and young son; Phoebe - with a friend who wasn't Helga - happy and popular because the other kids weren't afraid to go near her; Arnold never having to fend off her endless taunts and pranks; and the rest of her classmates, as they were now, happy without her there to bully them.  
  
Yes, she imagined, they all would have been better off without me. Better had I not existed.  
  
But then, it was not all in her imagination. She felt she had justification. Her classmates didn't care that she wasn't around. They even liked it better. Her best friend was much better off without her. And after last night...  
  
Her father hadn't at all been happy when he'd seen the bandage on her arm. He'd ripped it off in a fit of anger and had accused her of telling. She protested - loudly - but it had just infuriated him. He had hurt her, then, in anger, grabbing her by that same wrist and telling her everything that was wrong with her, punctuating each reason with another punch, slap or kick. That was as helpless as she'd ever been. Unable to move, unable to duck or deflect and of the blows, she was stuck taking everything just as it came. She'd thought he might kill her, then.   
  
When he'd finally let go, bending to pick up something nearby, she'd bolted, running to her room and locking the door behind her. She stayed there, curled up in a ball on her bed, crying silently for half an hour as Bob cursed and pounded on her door, trying to break it down or take it off it's hinges, all the while fearing for a life she wasn't sure she even wanted anymore. The torture had finally ended when Bob got a call from his lackeys at the Beeper Emporium. He'd left her alone, but left calling out that she didn't deserve to live and should be very glad that she was his daughter and not a daughter to someone who'd kill her for being who she was.  
  
That had left her cold and suddenly completely emotionless. She'd dragged her body from the bed. Aching and protesting all the while she'd forced her limbs to move, violently unloading all of her school work from her backpack, leaving it torn and broken on the floor. She proceeded to pack the flimsy bag with every last one of her poetry books and any other work she could find. She found some other bags - paper and plastic bags holding useless things around her room - and filled them with the remainder of her writings and anything that was most important to her. There wasn't much. She set the two bags by her door and went to bed for the night.   
  
The next morning she found she was little more than a bruise. It didn't matter to her anymore, though, and she tuned out her body as she got ready for school. She did everything as she normally would have, save for bring along the bags she had filled the night before. Then she had started off for school, deviating from the path before she could meet anyone she knew.  
  
She'd ended up at the docks, right where she wanted to be. She chose an old one, unstable and unused. Perfect. As she made her way out to the edge of the dock, she could feel it disintegrating under her feet. Rather appropriate metaphor for her life, she'd reflected, slightly amused at how detached she felt.  
  
Finally she stood at the precipice. She stood a moment, surveying the water before her, then silently leaned down a caught one of her bags in her hands. Systematically she emptied the bag, taking each object one by one in her hands and looking at it a few moments before tossing it into the bay. She repeating the process over and over until she reached her writings.   
  
She'd straitened then, letting all the feelings of doom, hatred and pain wash over her. Then she'd taken her first writing, on a loose sheet of paper, read it, ripped it down the middle, and tossed in away, watching the pieces flow into the wind for a few seconds before plunging into the water.  
  
Carefully, purposefully, she did the same thing for each piece of writing she had brought with her. Sometimes reading them aloud in a scornful voice, sometimes reading them to herself sorrowfully, she kept at it. Every single thing she had ever written was going, piece by torn piece. Nothing she had ever done in her life had ever seemed as important as this moment. She was fully aware of the symbolism of this act and painfully aware of the decision that would follow. The most critical decision of her life. Live or Die? She had the power to do either, she just wasn't sure which one she wanted.  
  
~~~  
  
She hadn't shown up at school that day. All three of them were horribly disappointed. They'd had everything scripted down to the minutest detail. They knew just how they were going to stand around her, and just what motions they would make. They'd even practiced most of the night. Now they'd have to wait, anxiously, one more day.  
  
Worse though, were their fears of what might have happened to prevent her from coming. Thoughts of this kind made all three alternately shiver through the entire first half of class.  
  
It wasn't until recess that their fears were confirmed - more or less.  
  
They were sitting, worriedly, dejectedly, behind the jungle gym, talking about her nervously, when they suddenly heard heavy breathing behind them. They turned as one to see Brainy shifting from side to side before them.   
  
"Helga..." He wheezed, uncertain of their feelings towards her, "...docks..." Having run from the docks after following Helga there that morning, combined with his own apprehension about her condition made Brainy even more incomprehensible than normal. "...just hurry..."  
  
The three exchanged a brief, fear filled look between them, then took off, out of school grounds. As fast as they could, they made their way towards the docks, never noticing that Brainy was no longer with them.  
  
___  
  
It was some time before they reached Helga. They hadn't known which dock Helga had been on, and Brainy was suddenly not there to help them. They'd wasted valuable time looking for her, time they all somehow sensed they could ill afford to lose. It was Gerald who finally spotted her, standing silently on one of the oldest docks, unmoving as a chill wind blustered about her. She was holding a single piece of paper in front of her, not seeming to notice the empty book jackets and gobs of white that littered the water before her. It was evident that she had put them there.  
  
As they approached, (at top speed) Brainy finally made a reappearance, pulling along behind him the school psychiatrist. Together, they stood at the edge of the dock, knowing that the rotting planks of wood could collapse at any time, and would if too much more weight was put upon them. Helga was still holding the paper up in front of her.  
  
"HELGA!" Phoebe screamed in panic.  
  
Helga didn't appear to notice. Instead, she simply tore the paper in her hand into mid-sized shreds, and released them into the water. Then she stooped down and pulled another piece of paper from the pack at her feet, still oblivious to all around her, and repeated the process.  
  
All the kids were yelling for Helga now, but she was either ignoring them, or somehow completely unaware that they were even there. Dr. Bliss noticed the remnants of her pink poetry books in the water and instantly recognized them for what they were. Not too long ago, she'd convinced Helga to share the contents of some of those books with her, and had been pleasantly surprised at the talent displayed in her writings. Seeing those books - and papers, which had almost certainly contained similar material - floating there ripped to pieces, Dr. Bliss suddenly had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming next. Children, and adults too to a much lesser extent, tended to act out with alarming symbolism.   
  
Helga was ruining everything that was important to her, and destroying the things she was most passionate about. Symbolically she was destroying herself.   
  
Dr. Bliss felt pure fear grip her heart.  
  
Now empty, the backpack beside Helga was now pitched into the sea also. Now it was just Helga herself, alone on the empty old dock. *She's going to jump!*  
  
Panic overrode Dr. Bliss's good sense, and she unconsciously blurted her thought aloud. Phoebe gave a gasping cry, and called out for Helga again. Gerald, worried, did the same, looking over at Dr. Bliss. Brainy surged forward, moving beside Arnold, who was staring at Helga as if he could pull her from the brink with sheer force of will.  
  
"You... have to.... go. Get her." He wheezed softly, so that only Arnold could hear. "It has... to be you."  
  
Arnold didn't respond for a moment, perhaps processing this bit of information. He shook his head once, then his jaw locked into place, and a look of pure determination set on his face.  
  
Brainy moved backward as Arnold moved forward, towards the dock. Dr. Bliss started as he did so, and moved forward to stop him. Brainy intercepted her, gripping her arm. Surprisingly it was Phoebe who spoke up in his defense.   
  
"Let him go. He's the only one who can get to her. The bridge can't support both you and Helga at the same time... besides, I think he may be the only one who can break through to her."  
  
  
  
*Depths of blue and drops of green. Serene. Amid Turmoil. Coral among Sharks. Each wave working together, yet attaching nowhere and lying in nothing. Oh endless river of doom, Sapphire void. Is this to be my final resting place? Am I to sleep in your depths? If my world I am to place under your caress, What Then?* 


	5. Reverberations

This has actually gotten to be longer than I had intended. Forgive me. This is not the end, but another build-up. Perhaps some of you can see what kind of shape this is turning out to be. I assure you, though, the ending is not as easily assessed as you might think.  
  
This chapter was very difficult to portray. I hope I have done it justice. Much of this is symbolic, and nearly the whole chapter plays on the perception of the character. This can seem a little unreal and over dramatized. If you think about it, though, this is the way we are inclined to think, especially when our imaginations are taken into account. All I ask is that you try to suspend your disbelief and hang on. The next, and hopefully final chapter will explain and resolve everything, although some of you may be disappointed. I apologize in advance.  
  
I will not write my warning again. If you do not know what I am talking about, then need to find a different story to read. Maybe one with pictures. And one-syllable words.   
  
Nor will I write a disclaimer. I stated everything quite clearly in the first chapter, and I doubt it's really necessary to have it emblazoned on every chapter. Even the blood-sucking lawyers aren't that neurotic.  
  
  
  
  
"Reverberations"  
  
  
  
*Depths of blue and drops of green. Serene. Amid Turmoil. Coral among Sharks. Each wave working together, yet attaching nowhere and lying in nothing. Oh endless river of doom, Crystal void. Is this to be my final resting place? Am I to sleep in your depths? If my world I am to place under you caress, What Then?*  
  
Even Helga had to give a mirthless smirk at the creation of that one. Where did she come up with such strange poems on the spur of the moment? She felt a small pang of regret, then. It would be such a shame not to write that one down, not to see the smooth lines on the paper, marking forever that expression of herself. Not to look over those solid, shaky lines and be able to *see* the words come to life, and hear them just as they sounded in her head. It would be a shame.  
  
But she would never write down another poem. Maybe she would die out here today, and maybe she would not, but she could never write down a poem again. What was it worth to her anymore? Her secret, that laughable little *infatuation*, did she even feel that way anymore? Admittedly, she couldn't feel anything. It was as if she were very old, looking back on a schoolgirl crush half a century before. She was lethargic and cold, and she couldn't seem to dredge up those old familiar feelings.   
  
*Oh how I -hate- you... and yet, how I adore you...*  
  
It was almost funny, those "intense feelings". They seemed pretty insignificant now. Stupid and melodramatic. *Hate*? *Love*? Where did that get her? She may have thought she felt them for Arnold, but how did she know how they felt? She'd never once been on the receiving end. In fact, outside of mushy romance movies, which she didn't particularly like, she'd never even seen them. The closest she'd come was seeing the praise and attention that was lavished upon her older sister. Well love anyway.  
  
  
Hate, she had plenty of experience receiving *that*.  
  
This time she didn't even shiver. What an accomplishment.  
  
She startled a moment, realizing how bitter she had become. Her shoulders slowly slumped as all her anger and hurt left her in a sudden rush. She actually began to *see* the water she had been staring at for hours, began to look into it's depths. Instead of love, hate, anger or even the cynicism that had so ruled her young life, all she found inside was a muted sadness.   
  
Looking into those icy blue depths she couldn't help but think of that famous quote, "It is a far, far better thing I do..."  
  
Realizing she had spoken aloud, she continued, "Than I have ever done before. I don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to live. Eternally in between the world of the living and the dead. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Silent terror run from me... finally."  
  
*****  
  
Arnold's first steps onto the dock were hesitant. The dock swayed and shuddered under his feet. Several times he had to catch his breath, hoping and praying that the rotten planks would not give way beneath him.   
  
He watched Helga as he walked towards her. She was silent and almost stoic. Her body was held perfectly still. Like she was in a trance. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders slumped, and her body seemed almost to fold into itself. She was giving off an air of despair that had all of his warning sensors flashing.   
  
Somehow realizing how little time he had left, he quickened his pace across, heedless, now, of the danger. He finally reached her, and stood by her side breathing in the atmosphere of doom like a cloud of smoke. He wondered how she was not suffocating. Then glancing over at her, he realized maybe she was, and had been for a while.  
  
Helga still didn't seem to realize he was there, even though he was standing right next to her, shivering in the midst of an icy wind that did not seem to affect her. Was she just ignoring him, then, or did she really not see him?  
  
"Helga," He said, loudly in her ear. "We got to get off of here!"  
  
Still she looked only out at the sea as she opened her mouth, but at least she was going to talk to him. "It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done before."   
  
Her voice was very soft, and hard to hear over the restless wind, but he suddenly realized that she wasn't talking to him at all, but to herself.   
  
"I don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to live. Eternally in between the world of the living and the dead. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Silent terror, run from me..."  
  
Her voice dropped to a whisper so soft that had the wind not died completely, and the waves not stopped their rushing at just that moment, even standing beside her, he would not have heard.  
  
"Finally."  
  
Fear gripped his heart. This wasn't just some poem she'd read out of a book. This was from her heart. She really felt this. And if he didn't do something soon, she just might...  
  
Terror overcame rationality, and he gripped her arm, ready to forcibly pull her from the decaying dock. She finally seemed to realize he was there, turning her face towards his and meeting his eyes.  
  
He'd never in his life even imagined seeing what was in those eyes, and the sight haunted him for years. Her eyes were dead - painted stones emblazoned in her head in place of the real organs. There was just... nothing... in them. No fear, anger, surprise... just nothing. They stared sightlessly through him, pulling out his inmost self and examining it, then tossing it carelessly back. They saw beyond him into something deeper than he would ever know.  
  
He shivered, and stumbled backwards a step, almost letting go of her and falling into the water himself. His grip tightened at the last moment, though, and he managed to steady himself.  
  
Now those eyes finally registered pain. Placidly her pain-laced gaze lighted on his hand gripping her arm. Her eyes widened slightly then, as if surprised that he was touching her, or perhaps that she could feel it. She stared at the spot for a moment more, then those eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed heavily onto the dock.  
  
The dock shook violently at the unexpected blow, and both Arnold and Helga were nearly thrown from it. Arnold managed to grab on to a post supporting the dock and secure Helga's arm as well, and he hung on for dear life.   
  
The dock gave a mighty creak, and the middle half of the dock suddenly fell out and became driftwood.   
  
Gripping the post as tightly as he could Arnold forced himself to open his eyes. The portion of the dock the two children had been standing on, was thankfully still underneath them, but there was a gaping hole in the middle of the dock. Arnold couldn't see how he could get them both back.  
  
Waiting until the figurative dust settled, Arnold started to struggle to his feet. He would have made it at least that far, if the impending storm hadn't decided to finally converge upon them. As the frail wooden structure crumbled beneath him, Arnold watched the sea surge up and seem to wrap itself about Helga, pulling her into itself. He caught up her hand before the sea could take her completely. The sea retaliated ruthlessly, beating at him to make him let her go. He held on though, struggling within the grips of the raw power of nature.   
  
It was a strange experience for him too, watching it all as if in slow motion. Feeling as if he were not a part of this himself, but being caught up just the same. It was a very strange experience.  
  
His eyes squeezed shut once more, and he forced himself to breath. Someone was screaming in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. He was starting to lose his grip, on Helga and the post he'd clung to. The battering waves were starting to lull him into a kind of peaceful reassurance.  
  
"Let her go," he could almost hear to voices urging, "Let her become part of us. We will not hurt her. We will not let her come to harm." The sea was calming, slowing its intensity at the end of its storm to convince him. "All you have to do is let her go, and she will never be unhappy again. We will take care of her. Better yet, you come with her and see. We will take care of both of you."  
  
"Alright", he murmured his capitulation to the sea, and the almost-voices halted. His grip on the post loosened and failed. A flash of white light was the last thing he saw as his eyes closed in unconsciousness. 


	6. Resolutions

Four months. I apologize for the excessive length between these chapters. However, you should be delighted to know that this is the last chapter. I don't think many of you will like it. It neither ends happily nor sadly. It's not really an ending at all. I've tried to make it end much as I could see this ending in real life. Unfortunately, life takes so many twists and turns that this is only one of infinite possibilities. I'd appreciate your opinion on whether or not this particular ending sounds realistic.   
  
For all of you who have reviewed my story thus far, thank you. I appreciate every review good and bad.   
  
  
  
  
"Resolutions"  
  
  
  
  
Everything was white. Too bright. He was blinded by the brightness and a haze of pain that emanated from every joint in his body. He blinked twice, trying to shake the world around him back into recognizable form. Movement attracts attention.  
  
"....Aaarrrnnnooolllddd...."  
  
"...Aarrnnoolldd..."  
  
"..Arnold.."  
  
"Hey Arnold!" It was Gerald. "Can you hear me?"  
  
Arnold tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn't open. Didn't want to. He just wanted to remain mute.   
  
"Come on, buddy. Let us know you're okay." Gerald was right next to his head. He thought he could make out the shape. "Come on Arnold."  
  
"...fine" His voice was a whisper forced through his teeth.  
  
"He talked! He's gonna be okay!" Gerald was shouting to somebody. Arnold still couldn't see Gerald's face or who he was yelling to. Presently another form moved into his view.  
  
"You had us worried little boy," He couldn't recognize the voice. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Arnold didn't answer. The world wouldn't come into focus, and sound was slipping in and out again. It was too much. With a sigh, he sank once more into oblivion.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Light. It was always so bright. And white. Why was everything so incessantly white?   
  
No, there was some grey. Around the edges there was some grey. Things slowly started to come into focus. A wall. The wall was what had been so white. The edges of the wall were grey.   
  
White and grey. But it was such an accomplishment just to recognize the wall.   
  
Turn head, slightly. A window. There was a window next to the wall. And a chair. A small grey chair, which bowed under the weight of a body. Were there more chairs, more bodies here?  
  
What, what is that thing brushing against the bed. Hand. What is that thing brushing against the hand? Cold. Hard. Round. Touch it, grasp it. Like metal. Like steel. Grey.   
  
Pain began to intrude, overwhelming the senses. A groan forced it way through stone lips.  
  
The body moved.  
  
"Are you okay, short-man?" The body was next to the bed. "Come on, speak to me!"  
  
He gazed up at the figure speechlessly. The figure was fuzzy, blurred. Brown, mostly. Pale and brown.   
  
He blinked. Focus. Blink.  
  
The figure moved again, out of view for a few moments, then back again. Closer. Face to face, the figure had moved.  
  
He stared, almost able to make out... nose... eyes.  
  
Blink.  
  
"Come on, Arnold. Say something. Tell me you know me."  
  
That voice. So grating. So full of concern. Who was that voice?  
  
Focus.   
  
Blink.  
  
Focus.  
  
Don't let the world slip away again. Don't let everything go.  
  
Blink.  
  
**Concentrate** So kind, that face, so old. So old. Was he family? Was he... he was.   
  
Recognition!  
  
It was a struggle, making lips move. Forming the word was near impossible.  
  
"...Grandpa..." He breathed, looking up at the kind old face that still didn't quite want to come into focus.  
  
His expression shifted, forming a broad smile on the leathery face.  
  
"There you go! I told 'em you'd be okay, short man. Now just hang tight, don't go back to sleep till I can get the doctor."  
  
Then the figure was gone... his grandpa was gone. Replaced moments later by another figure. All white. Much fuzzier. He couldn't make out the face this time.  
  
"Hello Arnold." The figure stood in front of him, now. Belatedly he moved his eyes, tracking the figure. The white had merged with grey now. Now was holding something grey, and... writing? "My name is Doctor Phillips. I see you've awakened again. Good."  
  
He let the sound of the man's unfamiliar voice wash over him. He was beginning to lose most of the sounds, forgetting what they meant, not catching them all. But the voice was soothing, and he felt his body relaxing unconsciously.  
  
The voice had stopped now. He blinked. Then he felt something poking him. Something lifting his eyelids and turning his head.   
  
He blinked again. The voice was back now, but it wasn't talking to him. It didn't matter. It was so soothing. Soft. He was slipping again...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**blink** **blink**  
  
**yawn**  
  
*squint*  
  
"Grandpa?"  
  
The old man was by the bed in a second. "We-hell, shortman. You're awake again. Think you'll stay with us this time?"  
  
Arnold frowned in confusion. "Stay? What are you talking about?" He shifted, trying to sit up in bed, and failing. "Oh man, what happened to me? I feel like I got hit by a *bus*!"  
  
Phil chuckled shortly and suppressed a cough. "Well you're not too far off there."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"You don't remember what happened, do you boy?" The look in that wizened old face was unreadable to Arnold. What was he supposed to say to make this right? To make him feel better?  
  
He bit his lip and shook his head. The face sagged a bit, but otherwise did not change. "Don't worry your weird little head about it shortman. I'm just going to go get the doctor and he'll explain things to you. Okay? Stay awake, now." Then he was gone.  
  
Arnold did what he was told, relaxing slightly as he waited, confusion washing over his brain. He was obviously in a hospital. He must have been in some kind of accident. He squinted at the ceiling, trying to get his thoughts to concentrate. Had he been hit by a car, or been in a wreck somehow? No, he didn't think so. He certainly felt bruised and battered, but for some reason he just kept seeing water all around him. He shook his head, clearing the images from his mind, and his grandfather entered the room, following a young doctor.   
  
The doctor came to stand by his bed, in plain line of sight. "Well hello, Arnold. I'm glad to see you've awakened again. You look much more alert this time. How are you feeling?"  
  
The young man's voice was soothing and put Arnold's mind at ease right away. "I've been better." he said, struggling again to sit up a little. "What happened to me? Was I in some kind of accident?"  
  
The doctor smiled slightly, putting down his clipboard and helping Arnold adjust the bed settings. "More comfortable, Arnold?" At the boy's nod, he picked up his clipboard and paused a moment to scan some information from his sheet of paper. "Arnold, how much do you remember?"  
  
Arnold frowned. "Not much, doctor..." Arnold paused to try to collect some of his thoughts. He kept getting flashes of thoughts and images that disappeared as quickly as the came, and he was left with a mess that was difficult to wade through. "I can almost see... water... but that's all."  
  
The doctor nodded. "Don't worry Arnold. It's normal not to remember trauma early on. Since you are already beginning to remember details, it's likely that you will remember everything with time. To answer your question, yes you were in an accident of types. It seems a friend of yours was playing out on an old dock, and you apparently went out to stop her, and the dock gave way underneath you..."  
  
The doctor continued on for a few moment, but Arnold ceased to hear him. "That's not what happened," he blurted, interrupting the doctor mid-sentence.  
  
The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but was again thwarted by another voice. "He is quite correct," she said. She turned to Arnold. "I'm glad to see you awake. Are you okay?"  
  
The doctor cleared his throat. "What is your involvement in this, miss.."  
  
"Bliss. Dr. Bliss, actually. I'm a counselor at p.s. 118. I've been speaking with the girl, Helga, quite regularly for awhile now. Unfortunately, things are happening quicker than I thought, so I need to ask Arnold here a few questions when you are finished with your examination."  
  
The doctor nodded and shook her hand. "Perhaps you can help me some, then. My name is Dr. Phillips. Right now we need to focus on getting Arnold to remember details of his accident. If I'm not mistaken, he already seems to remember at least what is wrong, right Arnold?"  
  
"I remember everything, Dr. Phillips," Arnold told him solemnly.  
  
The Doctor nodded and gestured for him to keep talking as he checked the vital signs.  
  
"Wait," Arnold said, "How is she. Helga I mean. Is she okay?"   
  
The adults exchanged glances. "Why don't you just tell us what happened first, Arnold." Dr. Phillips interjected.  
  
Arnold paused, warily. That wasn't a good sign. He sighed. "I'm not sure where to start." He told them, suddenly very worried about his classmate.  
  
Dr. Phillips looked over at Dr. Bliss, tacitly telling her to take over. She sat down by Arnold's bed and began questioning him. "Why don't you start at the beginning. When did you notice a problem with Helga?"  
  
Arnold looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Well, um, Helga's kind of a bully. She likes to pick on people and boss them around. One day she just stopped."  
  
"Stopped what?"  
  
"Everything. She stopped talking to any of us, or even looking at us. She stopped being mean or rude or anything. It was kind of like someone had taken the real Helga and left a doll in her place. She just stopped."  
  
"Why do you think she did that?"  
  
Arnold hesitated now, weakly playing with his fingers. "Phoebe made us promise not to tell until we talked to Helga."  
  
Dr. Bliss just nodded and blatantly skirted the issue.  
  
"And you haven't talked to her yet?"  
  
"No we never got the chance. We were going to talk to her, but then she never came to school. At lunch Brainy told us she was at the docks. You know the rest of that." Arnold closed his eyes, trying to block out the sudden onslaught of images that bombarded his mind.  
  
He heard Dr. Bliss sigh softly. "Oh dear. I really do you you to tell me what happened in your own words, please."  
  
Strange. Why? His mind was starting to drift into those images, and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly exausted.  
  
"Arnold please, I know it's hard, but we need you to tell us."  
  
Arnold winced, but opened his eyes and sought out his grandfather, sitting silently in the background for once. He received only and encouraging smile, and realized that this must be something important.  
  
"Well, me and Gerald and Phoebe all went out to the docks to find her. That's when you and Brainy showed up. We saw her standing on that old dock, and yelling to her to get off, but she didn't hear, I guess. It was kind of stormy out there. Then you said she was going to jump and Brainy told me that I needed to go out and get her and bring her back."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"Well, I went out onto the dock and she was kind of murmuring something. I felt like the dock was going to cave in or something, so I grabbed her arm. And then she looked at me." Arnold stopped suddenly, closing his eyes again.   
  
"What's wrong, Arnold? What aren't you telling us?" Dr. Bliss urged him to continue, but the was a strange tone to her voice.  
  
"It's just... her eyes... they, they looked so... it was like she was already dead..." He shook his head, futiley trying to shake away the shudders that racked him.  
  
The room was filled with silence. Arnold was too afraid to open his eyes and see their reactions, so he just kept them closed, blocking out the outside world. He cleared his throat. "She... looked at me for a minute and the she just fell. When she fell, the dock did too."  
  
He could hear Dr. Bliss clear her throat. "Arnold, what's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"  
  
He let his mind drift back, he could almost feel the waves crashing against him again. "I was holding onto a pole with one hand, and Helga with the other." He murmured, sleepily, "the waves were slowing down. It wasn't as hard as before. They told me," he paused, "they told me to let her go."  
  
"Who told you Arnold?"  
  
"The water. The voices. They kept saying to let her go and everything would be alright. I didn't want to at first, but they said that they would take care of her, she wouldn't be hurt anymore. So I let go."  
  
"You didn't let go of Helga. When we found you, you had a death grip on her."  
  
Arnold smiled a little. "No. I let go of the pole. They said they'd take care of us *both*."  
  
Arnold opened his eyes a crack, looking for the disbelief he knew he'd see in the eyes of the adults. He found it in everyone except Dr. Bliss. She just nodded and wrote something down on a little pad. When she finished writing, she looked straight into Arnold's eyes with an apologetic look. "One last thing, Arnold. I know you promised Phoebe, but it is really important that we know what is going on."  
  
Arnold sighed and looked away. "We don't know for sure, okay? But Phoebe said when she was really little, Helga's dad used to hit her sometimes. She thought maybe it was happening again."  
  
Dr. Bliss's voice was now very carefully controlled. "Why is that Arnold?"  
  
"Phoebe said that Helga had told her something on the phone, and then the next day she just got really angry and stopped talking to everyone. And then she had a sprained arm that day at school, when you gave us that hall pass. She just said it all fit. We were going to ask her about it first, but..."  
  
"It's okay, Arnold. That's very helpful. Thank you."  
  
She started to get up.  
  
"Wait!" Arnold said, "You never told me how she was doing."  
  
She sighed. "not as good as you, Arnold. She's still in a coma. But there's still hope that she might pull out of it."  
  
She got up and walked out of the room, beckoning for the adults to follow. On his way out, Phil stopped at his grandson's bedside. "Don't worry, shortman, it'll be okay. Try to get some rest. I'm going to talk to the doctors for a moment, but I'll be right back."  
  
Arnold nodded and watched his grandfather walk out the door. Then he relaxed, letting himself drift off. On the edge of his consciousness he could hear the adults talking just outside his door. "...do you think that means...?" one of the them said. "...children often personify their fears or emotions... he was in pain and scared and wanted a reason to let go... transferred these feeling to the water... wouldn't worry..." The sound slipped from his mind as he fell into a troubled sleep.  
  
  
When he woke up the next day, it was to a crowd of eyes - or it seemed that way at first. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the eyes around him morphed into the figures of his grandparents, Ernie Potts, Mr. Hyunh, and Gerald. He could hear Mr. Kokashka out in the hall, loudly asking his wife, Suzie, to go and get him a drink.  
  
Arnold smiled.  
  
"Hey Arnold," Gerald exclaimed happily, noticing his friend was awake, "How you feeling?"  
  
"Better than yesterday," Arnold commented dryly. "What's going on?"  
  
"We are just here," Mr. Hyunh started with his thick accent, "to see how you are doing."  
  
"Yeah, give us some credit, Arnold!" Ernie Potts put in, looking a bit put out.  
  
Arnold just smiled again. "Thanks," He told them.  
  
Just then they heard a loud crash outside the room with Mr. Kokoshka's voice rising protestingly above it. The adults all groaned and piled out into the hall to see what was going on, one of them considerately closing the door, leaving Arnold and Gerald alone for the moment.  
  
"Man Arnold," Gerald said, pulling a chair up beside his best friend's bed. "We thought you were never going to wake up."  
  
"How long was I out?" Arnold asked.   
  
"Almost two days, man." Gerald said, noting his friend's shocked expression. "I mean you woke up *sometimes*, like in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, but you just fell right back unconscious, and we couldn't reach you."  
  
"Two days," Arnold murmured in shock. "Gerald, they won't tell me much about Helga, but I gotta know, is she okay?"  
  
Gerald shifted uncomfortably. "We don't know, Arnold. She's been in a coma this whole time. The doctors don't know if she's ever going to pull out of it."   
  
Arnold looked upset.   
  
"There's more," Gerald said, avoiding Arnold's eyes. "If Helga ever wakes up, they are planning on an investigation on, you know, her *parents*. They saw the injuries you got, which should have been worse than hers because of the pole, then they saw the injuries *she* had. She was bruised all over and probably worse. They wouldn't say too much in front of us, but Phoebe's pretty upset. They keep saying she was trying to kill herself, and they're thinking of locking her up if she tries it again."  
  
"Was she?" Arnold asked thoughtfully.  
  
"I dunno. She might have."  
  
The adults came back into the room then, and the conversation ended. Dr. Phillips came back and told them that other than his head injury, most of Arnold's wounds were superficial, and after a day or two of observation, he'd be able to go home. The room was filled with happy chatter then.  
  
That day, the rest of the class came to visit Arnold and Helga in the hospital. They brought cards and flowers and assorted gifts and stayed to talk for a few minutes, then went back to school. Mr. Simmons actually cried, which made everyone uncomfortable, especially when they went to Helga's room. Apparently the sight of Helga lying there on the bed so calm and unmoving, with Phoebe keeping her constant vigil at Helga's side looking as if she hadn't slept in days was more than a little disturbing. No one but Brainy stayed in the room for long. Most said hi, asked Phoebe how she was doing or set down their flowers and left. He stayed, standing quietly next to Phoebe and staring at Helga. When Mr. Simmons interrupted the quiet chatter in Arnold's room and began to round everyone up, checking Helga's room just in case, Brainy refused to go with them, and Mr. Simmons didn't have the heart to make him. He simply got everyone else together and headed back to the safety of the school.   
  
The rest of the day passed more or less uneventfully, save for Dr. Phillip's announcement that Arnold would be released from the hospital the following day.  
  
As that day arrived, and Arnold and his family and friend were getting packed up to check out, a sudden commotion out in the hall alerted them all that something was happening. Dr. Bliss had arrived that morning and had been talking to Arnold quietly when Dr. Phillips interrupted, pulling her briefly from the room. At the same time Phoebe burst into the room with a delighted yowl, and grinning, she announced, "She's awake!"  
  
They all tried to go at once, but the doctors held them back. They needed time to examine her. Dr. Bliss went with them, and for a few hours, some of which they assured the others that she was restfully sleeping, her room was off limits. When they finally were allowed to go in to her, the children were more than a little excited. They came in one by one with happy grins on their faces, even Arnold, who'd been forced by his nurse to go in a wheelchair. Phoebe immediately sprang over to Helga's side and for the next few hours was determined to be Helga's slave, constantly asking her if there was anything she wanted, anywhere she hurt, anything Phoebe could do for her. Helga wasn't talking much, propped up on her pillows looking bewildered and upset, but gradually she relaxed with the others and even smiled a little. The feeling of relief in the room was so palpable that everyone was feeling a bit giddy.  
  
They all stayed together until the doctors came and forced them out. Arnold was to be taken home and put to bed and kept there for a few days. Gerald, Phoebe and Brainy were just to leave and let Helga get some rest. They were so happily excited, though, that the adults consented to letting them have a little ice cream party in Arnold's room, while they sat in the boarding house kitchen and talked. The kids had a great time, fueled by the knowledge that their friend was okay, and was going to be okay. As he ate his ice cream, Arnold was sure that somehow everything would get better. It just had to.  
  
  
A lot happened in the days, weeks and months that followed. Dr. Bliss confronted Helga and got enough of a confession to jump start a vigorous investigation into her parents' capability. The first few days she was at the hospital her life was a blur of the comings and goings of doctors and nurses, detectives and police, and lawyers and therapists. If it hadn't been for her friends coming to visit her every day (except Arnold, who was confined to bed) she might have gone insane. But she quickly recovered enough to be released. That came with a problem. Where would she go? The parents of her friends all offered to take her temporarily, but the state ordered her into a local foster home while the investigation took place.  
  
To Helga and her friends, it seemed an eternity before the trial. After that everything happened quickly. Bob and Mirriam were convicted on three counts of child abuse and criminal negligence. They promptly lost custody of their youngest daughter. Bob was to spend up to six months in jail for assault and battery and Mirriam was checked into a local rehab center for substance abuse. They were both ordered to obtain a full psychiatric profile for the court.  
  
Helga spent several months after the trial in the care of the local foster home, until word finally reached her sister, and she was able to wrap things up in Alaska and fly home. She was appalled to learn of the things that had taken place, and bewildered by the sudden jolt of reality and responsibility that she now faced. After evaluation and a three month trial period, Olga was given custody of her sister. She immediately started a lengthy campaign to get her parents to sign adoption papers, effectively handing her sister over to her care. She suddenly had to become mother and father to someone she had barely gotten to know growing up. But she seemed to be handling it well and was really getting into her new role. In some ways it helped in that small adjustment period that Helga had become so complacent and introverted. She didn't argue with her new guardian, and she didn't resent her. She was just alive and everyone would have to be satisfied with that.  
  
Two months before Helga would be starting her first year at junior high, the papers were finally signed, and adoption completed. Olga promptly moved them both to Alaska. There she had a steady job and would be able to continue her education - though at a slower pace. This also gave Helga a new environment, away from her troubles and memories. Away from the torments of kids who didn't realize how monumental the change in Helga's life was. A place where she could start over. Not that she seemed to notice much.  
  
Bob and Mirriam moved to Idaho just four months after he was released from jail. He closed down the beeper emporium and sold the house and they just disappeared. They never went back to New York again. That's why, when Olga finally finished the last of her schooling almost three years later, she didn't hesitate to accept a high profile, well paying job in New York. They moved into an apartment complex just two blocks down from their old house. By the time their parents would legally be able to come and visit them unsupervised, Helga would be old enough to handle the situation.  
  
Those first months and years after the trial proved to be a very hard time for Helga. Olga had noted with some concern that her sister's indomitable will seemed to have just disappeared, leaving a quiet, sombre shell of a person in it's wake. Helga'd been scarred emotionally as far back as she could remember, but the sudden explosion of violence, isolation and mental instability she had experienced in those few short weeks had shattered her psyche. After she'd awakened in that hospital she'd been confused and mortified. As time went on, the confusion had given way to self loathing and the mortification to a dull, throbbing guilt. Slowly, she drew a cloak of silence and indifference about her. Nothing seemed to shake her, rock her world. She seemed almost as a soldier who has seen too much. Nothing was as bad as she had already experienced, and she was unconcerned with any of it, good or bad. Those her knew her grew increasingly concerned as time did nothing to shake her imperturbability, but could do nothing about it, and gradually came to accept it.  
  
But Helga was inherently a fighter. She'd done battle all her life. Eventually she grew tired of her quiet, noncommittal demeanor. One day she just stopped wishing for oblivion, and decided that whether or not the bad things were her fault, she no longer wanted to walk around the zombie, not dead, but never alive. She began to piece together her fragmented psyche. It was a painfully slow process, ranging from her bad days to her good, but her bad days began to lessen, and she was beginning to learn how to deal with her life. She found her own ways to cope with her past, which often meant locking it into a corner of her mind and ignoring it - despite her therapists' repeated lectures about how that was not the way to handle pain. For the time being, it was the only way she could survive from day to day.  
  
She changed in many ways during those years. Her personality was the most noticeable. No longer was she the grade school bully she had once been, feeling so passionately, yet hiding behind anger and secrets. Neither was she the sad, unfeeling little figure hiding in the corners as she so recently had become. It was more that she was now self reliant. She had always been slightly introverted, but now that she had come to terms of sorts with herself, that introversion helped her to walk without the emotional crutch she had leaned on her entire life. She was usually quiet, and was now content to stay in the background. But when she spoke it was with a brutal courage and honesty that few can manage. It made some admire, and it made some uncomfortable, but she was starting to earn respect, which was something she'd never had before.  
  
The other major change was not as noticeable, though perhaps much more significant. She stopped writing. That is to say that though she wrote down assignments for school, or notes for her sister, or once in awhile answering letters to her friends, she no longer wrote from the heart. What she now wrote was strictly facts or cliches. No one could ever tell exactly what it was that she was thinking, and if she still wrote poems in her head, no one would ever know. She would put pen to paper with the slightest hint of an opinion. Everything she wrote was so ambiguous or impersonal that it was impossible to tell where she stood on any matter, though she'd tell you if you asked.  
  
But for all the changes, good and bad, things gradually got better. She was not socially active, few people realized that she even existed, and she was close to no one. However, she seemed to have made a sort of truce with herself. Things like that didn't matter so much as how she felt inside. She began to walk with an assured air about her. Not a self-important, swaggering walk, but a walk of confidence in herself. People were beginning to notice.  
  
In addition to making peace with herself, she also began to develop new interests, interests that her sister (mostly) approved of. She enjoyed watching performance art and listening to live music, though she staunchly refused to participate when asked. She secretly loved to hear other people recite poetry and began to read a lot more than she had in the past. She eventually took up Kendo, Japanese fencing, and found that the focus she needed to maneuver her bokken could also be used to focus the distructive thoughts and emotions she'd been experiencing for the last few years. That helped further along the healing process.  
  
But what really counted in her recovery was her friends and her sister. If it hadn't been for their tender ministrations which seemed to stretch patiently and continually as she grew older, she might have given up. But even as she pulled away into herself and tried to cut herself off from any of them, they stuck with her, never taking her at face value when she said everything was fine and smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes. They made the effort - even sending her letters every week while she was in Alaska, even when they didn't get a reply for months at a time - and they were gradually being rewarded as she continued to heal. When Helga and her sister moved back to New York, she got to join her friends for the last few years of school. They'd grown apart, going different ways, enjoying different things, getting together with different friends. However something held them all together as a group, something larger than just Helga. They had this bond that seemed to last when all other friendships would have moved on. This bond allowed them to grow and learn and be completely independent while somehow still claiming each one as a member of the group.   
  
Dr. Bliss, too, returned to Helga's life briefly. She had continued on as elementary councilor after Helga's move, but they'd still kept in touch. Shortly after the Patakis had moved to Idaho, Dr. Bliss began a campaign to change the way the law dealt with battered children. Though she largely failed, she was successful in creating a sense of awareness. Eventually she began to travel, creating a program to use at elementary schools to raise awareness and inspire people to take action.  
  
Helga, for her part, had put up a battery of walls to protect herself from the kind of damage that had nearly killed her as a child. She never did take them down, but those who made the effort found that the walls were not to high for them to climb over eventually. Those were the people who truly cared about her. These were few, but infinitely more valuable to her than she could ever have thought. She was satisfied.  
  
She *was* satisfied.  
  
She realized that the day of her highschool graduation. The ceremony was over, and the kids were just milling around, having their pictures taken and rejoicing that they had made it this far. Posing for a few pictures, the small group of friends and their families chatted excitedly about their futures. They would each be going to different colleges in different states. At one point Arnold looked over and realized that there was a look of apprehension on Helga's normally impassive face. Touching her hand, he smiled at her. "We made it, " he told her. "You made it. Everything's going to be great from now on."  
  
She looked startled, then smiled gently as her sister took the last picture. She admired his optimism and even though she didn't agree with his words, she recognized the spirit behind them. Life had not always been good to her, and might not be good to her in the future. But there was hope. 


	7. Afterward

Okay, I can hear dozens of fans out there groaning. No I did not put in any romance between Arnold and Helga. Personally, I don't hold to the true love fixes all theory. However, I didn't rule out the possibility. Just because they are just friends right now, doesn't mean they will always be. Or perhaps they will grow up and get married to other people, and just remain friends all their lives. The future is up to the minds of those who read this. That's the great thing about life. You never, ever know what will happen in the future.  
  
This was a fictional story, of course, based on fictional characters you all know and love. However, the situation of abuse is real in thousands of homes all over the world. It's said that more children under the age of four die from abuse than any other cause. Child abuse takes a number of forms, mental, physical, sexual and emotional, and is extememly distructive. To read more about what child abuse is, and how it affects children and the adults they grow to be, follow this link.  
  
http://www.heart-healing.com/1child_abuse.html  
  
Children are not the only ones who are abused, either. Marital abuse is on the rise, and it's not only the wives being abused. Many times people don't even recognize things like verbal and mental assault as abuse, though these are just as deadly. If you or anyone you know is suffering from any kind of abuse, you need to get help. Every situation is different, but the basic idea is to get away from the abuser. One of the most important things is to tell someone. It's recommended that you first tell someone you trust, but if this is not a possibility for any reason, there are a number of hotlines and support groups who are ready and willing to walk you through each step of the process. Here are just a few national hotlines*. There are also local hotlines set up, but I could not possibly list them all here.  
  
NATIONAL ABUSE HOTLINES:   
  
NATIONAL CHILD ABUSE HOTLINE- 1-800-422-4453  
  
BATTERED WOMEN'S HOTLINE- 1-800-992-2600   
  
DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE- 1-800-799-SAFE   
  
NATIONAL CRISIS HOTLINE- 1-866-334-4357   
  
NATIONAL TEEN HOTLINE- 1-888-747-8336   
  
(though not neccessarily related to abuse, these deserve to be here.)  
  
DEPRESSION HOTLINE- 1-800-551-0008  
  
SUICIDE HOTLINE- 1-800-784-2433   
  
These are only a few of the numbers out there. Incidentally if you do a search on hotlines, you will find more about any problem than you can imagine. Below are the sites I got this information off of. Most of what is in the story is based on personal observation or study on the subject. I truly hope that I've treated this with the seriousness it deserves. If anyone would like any further information, please let me know. I'll tell you what I can.  
  
In any case I want to say "thank you" to everyone who has read this far, whether or not you reviewed. If you have any problems or quiestions, please contact me. I'd like to know if there's anything I can improve upon for the future. And for those of you who are, or know someone who is in a bad situation, know that there are those who understand.  
  
____  
*These numbers are only in the U.S. There are international hotlines available as well.  
  
I got my hotline information from these sites:  
  
http://www.eapage.com/800.htm - If you can think of it, it's here. Support hotlines for abuse, disease, families, etc. A great one stop site for a lot of numbers, including international numbers.  
  
http://suicidehotlines.com/national.html - For information on suicide, and hotlines for adults and teens who are considering suicide.  
  
http://www.heart-healing.com/ - mainly a site on child and marital abuse. This site is run by the people of Maryland, and has a good amount of local information as well as national. They also have local listings for other states.  
  
http://www.vachss.com/help_text/hotlines_intl.html - This is a site for international hotlines. 


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